


Bloom

by FangedAngel



Category: Chronicles of Narnia RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangedAngel/pseuds/FangedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme: Ben/Skandar - frottage, in a somewhat public place during a break in filming, frantic, rushed, having to be quick and quiet so as not to get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I really needed to write this. Thank you for enabling me, prompters. Skandar is eighteen in this.

Skandar shoves Ben into the wall, with more force than intended, or perhaps more force than Ben had expected. It steals Ben's breath, makes a bruise blossom on his elbow, but Ben doesn't notice, can't notice, not with Skandar like this, all burning gaze and flushed cheeks and messy hair. Skandar kisses Ben in a way that almost seems angry, tugging at Ben's bottom lip. Their teeth click together, leaving a dull ache behind, and Ben groans, a sound muffled, stolen, by Skandar's lips. Ben changes the angle, his hands at the small of Skandar's back, where they usually find their way, and Ben tries for reason, tries to inhale deeply and think about what they're doing, in between takes, too desperate for each other to wait, too reckless to hide further away from set.

Michael will start calling for them sooner rather than later, and Ben tries to stop, tries to move away, because this isn't how it should be, not like this, not in this place, not with Skandar pinning him to the wall, stronger than Ben reckoned, Skandar, who's so much younger than Ben; Skandar, who's like no one Ben has ever met. He remembers meeting Skandar again, the first rehearsals for Dawn Treader, Skandar appearing before him after months of not seeing each other, not a boy anymore. Ben hadn't been ready for the change, hadn't anticipated the change. It was his mistake, of course. He tried to keep away, tried not to let it show, but too much had changed, and it showed. The tension between them during the sparring rehearsals, and subsequent filming, was palpable. Skandar felt it too, of that much Ben was sure, if only judging by the way Skandar kept making mistakes. He remebers the look on Skandar's face, the worry painted all over him, the third time he accidentally made Ben crash to the floor of the Treader with a pained gasp.  
Skandar had kneeled down next to him, one of his hands warm, searing, on Ben's shoulder, the other brushing strands of hair away from Ben's face. Skandar's words were tilted with worry, with regret, until Ben stood, trying to save his dignity by not limping at all, until Ben told him it was OK.

He remembers the perfect takes that Michael ended up keeping, he remembers laughing, the happiness pouring forth from Skandar making his heart beat faster, ever faster, making him grin in reply. He'd felt Caspian slipping from him then, and he didn't try to cling to his character, didn't try to pretend that that moment wasn't about Skandar and him, and about Caspian and Edmund instead. Another mistake, he supposes, and a professional one to top it off, but he hasn't regretted it since.

And then came Skandar's eighteenth birthday, with the painful reminder of Skandar's youth, the reminder of the differences between them, of Ben's recklessness. He didn't get drunk, much as he wanted to, but Skandar was more on the tipsy side, his usual seriousness slipping off from him like a cloak, and he spent the evening draped all over Ben, a glint in his eyes that Ben was very familiar with. Ben remembers the hand he'd wrapped around Skandar's waist, palm settling over hip, but he shied away from what Skandar was trying to tell him. He was the first to leave, that night, and Skandar ignored him as much as possible for the rest of the week. Georgie noticed, as she usually does, but to Ben's relief, she didn't mention it, apart from the few worried glances she threw both of them

But now he's here, pinned to the wall by Skandar's hands on his shoulders, kissing Skandar, matching Skandar's desperation with his own, his hands pulling Skandar closer, ever closer until there is nothing between them.

Voices come from around the corner from where they are, and Ben almost pushes Skandar away before he realises that the voices seem more distant with every second, not coming closer.

He breathes against Skandar's lips, heavily, unable to catch his breath for no apparent reason -apart from the pounding in his ears, apart from the way his heart is beating, like he's never been kissed, like he's Skandar's age again- and he tries, he does try, to push Skandar away, to put an end to it before they get caught.

But then he looks at Skandar, sees the reddened skin around Skandar's mouth, caused by Ben's beard, sees how Skandar's breathing matches his own, sees the damp sheen of saliva, Ben's, on Skandar's parted lips. And then Skandar slips a leg between Ben's and just rubs, stealing a bitten moan from Ben, a moan Ben almost chokes on to prevent the sound, the sound that seems too loud here, in this small space, where they can't hide.

The height difference between them is inconsequential now, because their bodies meet in all the right ways, and Skandar, Skandar keeps rubbing, keeps applying pressure, clearly experienced with this, and Ben takes a gulp of air to prevent jealousy from biting down into him, and he kisses Skandar, just kisses him. There's no finesse between them, not now, and Ben is the one who has to remember they're still in costume, Ben is the one who nips at Skandar's jaw to make Skandar focus on him. Skandar's eyes are almost too dark now, as they watch Ben's fingers at work, Ben who exposes both of them, Ben who wraps his fingers around both of them and squeezes. He almost drowns in the look on Skandar's face, in the sound Skandar makes, and he flicks his wrist, moves his hand, just to hear it again, just to see Skandar's eyelashes fluttering, dark against flushed skin.

"Ben," Skandar nearly growls, not far enough gone to forget about the necessity of keeping his voice down.

Ben just keeps looking at him, unable to stop, unable to remember why this was never a good idea. And Skandar's fingers wrap around his wrist, tearing his hand away from where they're both pressed against each other, pinning it back to the wall. Skandar holds Ben's hands folded over his head, arms outstretched, and Ben can already feel the burn but it's nothing, nothing compared to how Skandar pushes into him, rubs against him, their cocks, hard, leaking, together. Ben can do nothing instead of moving his hips up, thrusting into that pressure, and in the haze that has taken over his mind, he remembers the word for this, and he moans again, because it's too much, because it shouldn't be happening, because it shouldn't affect him like this.

Skandar bites Ben's lip, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting, and Ben sucks on his tongue in return, leaves marks all along his jaw, his neck, Skandar arching his throat to give him better access. Skandar's skin tastes like salt, like the sun that's been burning all day, the sun that won't allow them to hide, a silent witness without a choice but to keep their secret.

Skandar's hold tightens on Ben's wrists when he tries to move, and there will be bruises, there will surely be bruises, and he'll have to be very creative with his explanation, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care about filming or remembering his lines or responsibility, he doesn't care, not now, because he's so close, too close, and-

"Skandar? Ben? We're ready for you now."

They both freeze, the assistant's voice too close for comfort, Michael's voice barking orders in the distance, but then Skandar starts moving faster, and Ben can't do anything but match his pace as they rub against each other. Skandar kisses him, again, and again, and Ben knows they won't be able to hide this, not the marks his beard has left around Skandar's mouth, not their swollen lips and their flushed faces, not the bruises that will bloom on Ben's skin. They'll guess, they'll know, and it won't matter, because he'll have this, the knowledge of how Skandar looks like when he's about to come, all frantic and desperate and beautiful.

Skandar lets go of his wrists and there are thousands of needles all over Ben's arms but he doesn't care, not with Skandar's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling. Ben wraps his arms around him, seeking leverage for the thrust that sends Skandar over, spilling hot over Ben, and Ben has to taste him again so he lifts him up only an inch or two, his teeth finding Skandar's shoulder, his lips sucking on the skin.

"Come for me, Ben."

Skandar's voice is hoarse, wrecked, and Ben has only a second to notice the glint that has returned in Skandar's eyes before he loses whatever shred of composure he had left when Skandar, all seriousness, wraps his hand around Ben's again, bringing it to his lips only to suck on two of Ben's fingers.

The sun burns too bright, painfully so, when Ben opens his eyes again. Skandar's already trying to put some semblance of order back into his appearance, tugging at his hair with a self-conscious frown until he meets Ben's eyes and breaks into a grin. Ben must look even worse than Skandar, and he's not in any hurry to face Michael's wrath, nor Michael's questions.

"We won't fool anyone like this," Skandar states, now pressing his own fingers to Ben's lips, fingers that Ben kisses.

"I'd rather not have everyone know. Should we make a run for it and pretend we were having lunch somewhere?"

There are more voices now, calling both their names, and Ben considers the shortest route to their trailers, the route that won't have them discovered.

Skandar nods before kissing Ben again, the chastest kiss of the day. He tucks Ben's hair behind his ear with a smile that Ben has been familiar with for years.

It's Skandar who leads the way, Ben who follows, and Ben has many questions, questions he will whisper against Skandar's skin without expecting an answer when it will be just the two of them, shielded away from the world.


End file.
